


Home At Last

by remadebydreamers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-07-05 06:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remadebydreamers/pseuds/remadebydreamers
Summary: Steve Rogers can't stop trying to save people. Dating Bucky Barnes wasn't the best idea. But he's young and Bucky's hot and who knows? Maybe it will work out this time. Maybe Steve will be able to catch him before he shatters. If not, well. Bucky is worth falling for.





	1. Static Codes

“Friday, normal time?”

Steve nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Sorry for making you squeeze an extra session in on a Sunday. This shit is too complicated,” he mumbled through tired lips.

“It’s fine.” She waved him off. “99 percent of my life is exciting. I can afford to spend the other 1 percent teaching Latin to you.”

“Thanks, Nat, really appreciate the compliments.”

She picked up her bag from the floor, letting it rest on her shoulder lightly. Which wasn’t easy, considering the fact that it had her normal textbooks in it as well as several Latin books.

“Love you too, Rogers.”

Steve was alone in the street. The world was a combination of muted colors and tired lights and he rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away the haze. Another guy from the library crossed under a streetlamp and Steve could see the lines of weary desperation running across his face and driving pits of exhaustion into his eyes. It was the look of any college student. 

Yet it was haunting. It was more than desperation, it was the kind of exhaustion that pulled someone completely under. Steve was startled that he didn’t stumble as he stepped forward, didn’t betray any signs of the heaviness that seemed to pull at him. He shouldered his bags much the way Natasha did, with a type of graceful determination. 

His good-guy instinct was screaming at him to run over, ask the guy what was wrong, offer to help him carry his books, as though that would lift the burden of the world from his shoulders. But it was late. It was dark and Steve’s eyes kept closing of their own accord. He tried reasoning with himself that he couldn’t help every single broken person he ran across, although the hero inside of him tried to tell him otherwise. In the end, he let the guy walk away, promising to himself that he’d help the next person he found. 

He avoided the glare of the streetlamps as he walked back to his dorm, waving a tired hello to Sam as he stumbled in.

“Damn, she really worked you that hard, man?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Just…” Steve shook his head. “So much more Latin than I’ve ever needed to know.”

“Taking Latin was a mistake, I’m pretty sure you can admit it already,” Sam smirked. “I promise I won’t hold it over you.”

“I like it, but I don’t understand it,” Steve protested.

“Oh wait, I know why you keep holding on. Romanoff. No other way you’d get to spend an hour of uninterrupted time with her, huh?”

Steve groaned.

“You know how I feel about Natasha, Sam, so you can shut it already. I need a tutor for the class and she happens to be fluent in Latin.”

“And she also happens to be extremely hot. Yeah, I think I get it.”

“Let me be an academic in peace for once, would ya? Not everything in the world is about crushes on girls.”

“Alright, alright, I’m only letting you off because I’m getting the feeling you’re going to pass out halfway through this conversation if we don’t stop.”

“You might be right.”

Steve stifled a huge yawn, falling backwards into his pillow.

“Are you sure you’re going to make it up in time for that 7:30 class tomorrow?” Sam eyed him dubiously.

“I’ll nap after class.”

He waved a dismissive hand, already shutting his eyes as he mumbled the words. Not unsurprising, an image of the lone guy leaving the library popped up from behind his eyelids as he drifted off. Great. Another thing his brain had decided not to let go of. Before passing out, Steve sighed, knowing exactly what he had to do tomorrow before his brain let him have any rest. 

Tomorrow, of course, didn’t start out anywhere as smoothly as Steve had planned it.

Instead of waking up to the usual blaring music of his alarm, which only lasted a few seconds before he slammed it off, he woke up to Sam.

“Turn off your fucking alarm already! It’s been going off for the last twenty minutes!”

Steve grabbed his phone, swiped away from the alarm, and sneaked a look at the clock.

“Shit.”

Sam, now more awake than not, turned to him. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m late to American Lit.”

“Then why are you still here telling me all about it?”

Steve jumped out of bed, changing as quickly as he possibly could and grabbing the tin of mints he kept on his nightstand in exchange for a toothbrush as he rushed out the door.

Rushing across the college grounds, he tried to be as quiet as possible about squeezing open the door to the lecture hall. Even with the size of the class, it wasn’t hard to find Natasha. As always, she was perched towards the back, giving her a perfect view of each and every student in the class. He crept towards her, as quietly as possible.

“Move your bag,” he hissed.

She glanced up, only startled for a moment before her features melted into indifference. Natasha was unsettling in most capacities. 

“You overslept. I didn’t think the genitive case was particularly difficult.”

“First, how the hell did you know I overslept? And second, Natasha, I think you forget that not all of us are fluent in Latin.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Come on Rogers, you’re not as hard to read as you seem to think you are. You missed class, what, once this semester? And that’s because you puking all day because of the stomach flu. It’s not as though you’d ever miss class on purpose. It’s pretty obvious you overslept.”

She paused and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Also. You didn’t brush your hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not brush your hair. It’s like you have one of those long haired dogs living on your head.”

“Fuck off.”

Steve could hear the professor’s voice in the background, mentioning something about Walt Whitman’s mastery of language, but he already knew he would be getting the notes from someone else today. Sometimes Natasha decided to hold conversations at times not necessarily considered convenient, but he still had to respond. 

“Seriously, though. I’ve been through much harder shit with you. Were you really that torn up about possessives?”

He hesitated, not wanting to take a bite out of her bait. But she knew him well enough that she pounced.

“So what was it?” A slow smile was spreading across her lips. “Another hook-up?”

“God, you make it sound like I’ve slept around the entire campus. No, it wasn’t a hook-up, thank you very much. It was just some random guy I saw.”

“I don’t buy that bs. It’s never ‘just a random guy.’ Who needs saving this time?”

“I didn’t even talk to him.” Steve swallowed down a wave of guilt that rose up at the statement. “I could kinda tell something was off, though, you know? He looked exhausted.”

She snorted.

“We all are, Steve, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“It was different. He looked like a walking shell. Like he wasn’t there, he was only carrying through the motions.”

“And you didn’t run over and offer him a mug of hot chocolate? What happened to Steve Rogers, the American hero?”

He knew she was teasing, but somehow, her words set his nerves on the edge.

“I wanted to, alright? But I was falling asleep standing up and I don’t know, maybe I can’t save every person I come across.”

“It’s fine, Steve.” Natasha’s voice was unexpectedly soothing. “It was probably just a rough night for him, maybe he was cramming for an exam. He’ll be fine.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Steve picked at the fabric of his jacket. 

“You’re going to get yourself into trouble like this.” Natasha sighed.

He smirked.

“Been there already.”

Around them, people were starting to pack up their bags, shoving away pencils and pens and laptops. Apparently the lecture was over. 

Steve spotted a familiar blonde head weaving her way through the crowd.

“Hey, Sharon, over here!”

“Hi, Steve." She smiled. “What do you need this time?” 

He let out a nervous laugh. Was he really that easy to read?

“You know I hate to ask, but I overslept and missed half the lecture. Could you do me a big favor and share your notes?”

“No problem,” she easily agreed. “What I’m wondering is how you managed to oversleep. Aren’t you up at like 5:30 jogging most of the time?”

“It’s complicated.”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’ll see you later. Don’t go to bed too late.”

“Thanks, mother.”

She threw a wink at him before walking away.

“And you ask me why I thought it was another hook-up,” Natasha mused as they watched Sharon walk away.

“You and Sam could start a club. The ‘I’m Obsessed with Steve Rogers’ Love Life club.”

“How long’s it been since you last had a date, Steve, come on. Tell you what. Ten bucks to go and ask Sharon out right now.”

“I’m not looking for anything long term right now. Hell, I’m not even into hook-ups. The only thing I’m looking for is to finish the rest of the semester without any other major disasters.” 

“Sure, live the boring student life. Let’s see how long that lasts for. Actually, I’ll put my ten bucks to that. Ten bucks says you can’t go a week without hooking up or dating or getting drunk or doing something that isn’t strictly academic.” 

“A week isn’t that long.”

“I know you.”

“Fine. A week.”

They shook hands and she fixed him with her glare. 

“If I were being honest, I’d give it closer to four days, but hey, I figured I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“I’d give it 24 hours if we were taking bets on your life.”

“And yet we aren’t. See you Friday night, Rogers.”

She gave him a little wave as she sauntered away.

A week. Last a week and it would earn him ten bucks and a little bit of pride. That was it. Simple.


	2. Let the Exits Pass

8:45. Friday night. Four days into Natasha’s bet. 

Natasha reached out a hand to tap at a block of words Steve was staring at. 

“Give me the conjugation of ‘to give’ one more time, then we’ll look at the mythology book again,” she coaxed. 

“Do. Das. Dat. Damus. Datis. Dant.”

“Perfect.”

She glanced at the clock. 

“You know what, save the mythology for next week. This is as much as you need to know for your quiz, right?”

“Should be.” He stood up and stretched. “Where are you rushing off to?”

“Show opens in two weeks and I have at least four monologues to get down.”

There was a certain tension to Natasha, a wound up look to her features that suggested her attention was being drawn to other places than conjugation. Before a show. Always before a show. 

Two and a half years of college together and Steve still had trouble reading her. Before a show, though, some of her mask unraveled, like she was allowing herself to exist without boundaries, so she could take it all apart to restructure her personality into someone completely different. The week before performances Natasha usually became someone else entirely. He was used to her constant personality changes, as she slipped on and off identities as easily as most people take off coats. But in the few weeks before full performance mood started, Steve was treated to a huge dose of pure, undiluted Natasha. 

Controlled Natasha rarely let anything slip, whether it be anger or real happiness. She was the most groomed, well put together person that Steve knew. Pre-show Natasha looked to be on the verge of losing it. 

“Yeah, go ahead. I can help you memorize them some other day, if you need. I did a little acting in high school.”

She snorted.

“Thanks, but I’ve really gotta go.”

She scooped up her bag from the floor and left in a haste.

Steve stayed. 

It was ten minutes to closing and he let them drag out, thumbing through his last two pages of Latin notes and doodling in the corners of a few of his sketchbook pages. 

8:58.

He shoved his stuff into a bag and headed out the front door, ready to drop into bed when he got back to his dorm. It wasn’t that late, but winter had drawn all color from the sky and it looked as though it might be the middle of the night. 

By the entrance of the library, though, the street was flooded with light. As Steve poked his head out of the entryway, he saw several people milling around, laughing and talking. One guy was just saying goodbye to one of his friends when Steve caught a glimpse of him. His heartbeat rose a fraction. It was the same guy he had seen Sunday night, overcome with exhaustion. He looked a little happier now, there wasn’t so much weighing down on him, but there were dark circles running under his eyes.

“Hey!” Steve called out.

The guy spun around to face him, his every moment defensive. For a moment, Steve’s brain didn’t take in any of the exhaustion that colored the guy’s face. His eyes were drawn to the sharp cheekbones that made his face seem more narrow than it already was and to the dark lines of stubble traced under his chin. He followed the way the guy’s unruly hair hung around his face and somehow made his eyes look softer. It might have been the trademarked look of a sleep deprived college student, but fuck, this guy made it look like the face of a rumpled model. 

“What do you want?” he growled.

Shit. He hadn’t really thought this out at all. Out of ideas, he blurted out the first words that came to his mouth.

“Weren’t you at the library on Sunday?”

Great. Now he would be creepy stalker guy. Evidently, the other guy thought the same thing.

“And how the fuck would you know that?”

Realizing that he was digging himself into a deeper hole than he knew how to get out of, Steve backed up. 

“Sorry, I should have explained myself better. I was at the library with my Latin tutor and we left the place really late. I saw you when I was coming out and I was just wondering why you were there so late.”

“It’s not any of your damn business,” the guy retorted, but his tone was softer than it had been a minute ago. 

“Yeah, sorry for intruding, I was just…” Steve trailed off. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your way now.”

He cursed himself internally. He wanted to get to know the guy better, wanted to do something to help him, but he had taken all the wrong steps. There was nothing to do now except back off.

“Nah, it’s alright.”The guy’s icy demeanor dripped away by the second and Steve looked at him, startled. “I was studying for something I put off a little too long. Guess it came back to bite me.”

“I get it,” Steve said, nodding in agreement. “The only reason I had to pull in Natasha on a Sunday night was because I’d avoided studying for my Latin test all week.”

“Natasha?” 

“Oh, that's my Latin tutor. I would be failing that class without her.”

The guy’s face lit up into a grin.

“I know Tasha. She's basically my third sister.” He squinted at Steve’s face a little more carefully. “And you must be Rogers. You’re even prettier in person.”

Steve’s breathe caught in his throat. He reminded himself of the bet with Natasha. He could go three more days without flirting with any hot guys. He could do it.

“I didn’t- I mean I don’t- I guess- I might have not caught your name,” Steve was reduced to a stuttering mess by that one fucking comment. 

“I’m Bucky,” he said. “And I didn’t think calling you pretty was gonna make you stutter that much, but you’re pretty damn adorable when you do. Maybe I should let Natasha start setting me up on some blind dates.”

Steve didn’t know quite what to say. He could usually do outright flirting just fine, but Bucky brought it to a different level.

“She’s been trying to set me up with people for months,” he finally got out. “I’m surprised she never came around to you.”

“I don’t think she likes me talking to her friends, especially her perfect ones,” he smirked. “I’m a little more fucked up than most people like to handle.”

“I can do fucked up.”

“Then you’ll love me, Rogers.” He hesitated a moment and beneath the bravado, Steve could feel something like anxiety churning up under the guy’s skin. “You wanna go with me to see Tasha’s show?”

A combination of all his strongest emotions were trying to force their way up Steve’s throat and he swallowed them down.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Then I’ll see you there.”

Bucky flashed him a quiet smile as he slipped away and Steve could feel his heart melt. Fuck. Natasha was getting her ten bucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been struggling a little bit with how I'm writing Bucky in this fic, so we'll see how that goes. Comments and kudos are appreciated!


	3. A Long Time Coming

As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait nearly that long to see Bucky again. 

Not two days later, he was at the studio with Natasha and Maria, watching the two of them practice their dance routine. It wasn’t too hard, compared to some of the more complicated shit he had seen her do, so the atmosphere was lighthearted. 

Natasha was already pulling on the other person that she needed to be and all traces of wildness were slowly vanishing from her personality. She was steely calm as she and Maria went through the jumps again.

“Higher on the last one?” Maria asked, biting her lip nervously.

“Fine on the last one, bring it up on the second to last,” Natasha responded. “But that’s fine for today, the routine’s looking good. Can we run lines?”

“Sure, get me a minute to grab my script.”

Natasha slumped down next to Steve, taking a long pull of water from her bottle. The door opened and her head snapped to the side. In a second, her expression flipped from tired to excited, like someone had switched on a lightbulb.

“Bucky!” she said, leaping to her feet.

She swung her arms around him and he grinned at her as she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“How come you’re here, I thought this was your off season,” she questioned, her hands planted on her hips now that they weren’t around him.

“Thought I’d drop by and see you practice,” he responded.

His eyes swept around the room and he waved hello to Maria before his gaze settled on Steve. Natasha followed his eyes.

“Oh right, I keep forgetting you haven’t met yet. Bucky, this is that guy I keep telling you about. Steve, this is Bucky. He’s a friend from theater.”

“I’ve met Steve,” Bucky said with a little grin, as he came to the realization that Steve hadn’t told Natasha anything yet. “Didn’t he tell you? He’s my date to your show.”

“Excuse me?”

“We met a few nights ago. Hot guy leaving the library, calls out to me, what’d do I have to lose? So we talk, I think I’m probably gonna get murdered because he mentions he saw me at the library on Sunday, but he’s hot, so I’m not entirely out of it. Then he mentions that he knows you and the rest of it, you can put it down to my unparalleled flirting skills.”

Natasha whirled around to face Steve.

“Ten dollars. Right now.”

He pulled out his wallet and handed them to her without compliant.

“You weren't gonna tell me that you had a date with Bucky Barnes?”

“I didn’t think you would make such a big deal about it.”

“Steve, this is like the ultimate version of worlds colliding. And, no offense, but I’ve never pictured you with someone like Bucky.”

“Funny enough, I can’t picture you with anyone,” Bucky fired back. “When did you get to decide who I dated?”

“Woah, woah, woah, back off there, soldier.” Natasha raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I wasn’t saying I’m deciding who you date, I was saying that I wouldn’t have expected you and Steve to hit it off.”

“It’s not a big deal, Nat,” Steve pointed out. “We’re going to see your play together and that’s about it. I can promise that we haven’t slept together.”

“Yet.” Bucky winked.

Steve felt his face burn red. Everytime Bucky opened his mouth, Steve discovered a new level to the meaning of flirting. 

“New deal.” Natasha turned to Steve. “You promise me that I will never have to hear another word out of his mouth about your sex life and I will tell you everything you could possibly need to know about him.”

“There are only two things you need to know about me,” Bucky interjected. “One, my sparkling personality, which should speak for itself. And two, I’m the only person on this campus who has dirt on Tasha. So, I would suggest that you back off my date, thank you very much.”

“He likes back rubs and warm milk before he goes to bed,” she stage whispered, turning a daring look to Bucky.

“Don’t you have something you need to be doing?” Steve asked, not eager to get caught up in the dance that the two of them were flying through. He was already worn down by the chaotic energy radiating off the pair. 

“Lines.” Maria held up her script. “As fun as this has been, we still need to finish that scene.”

“I’ll watch,” Bucky suggested.

“Oh no you don’t.” Natasha walked over to the door and shoved it open, gesturing to the pathway outside. “Out. Now.”

“You know I help you get better.”

“Yeah, when you’re focused and concentrated. Not when you’re sexually frustrated and clearly fixated on impressing Steve.”

“Fair enough.” He stood up, wrapping his coat a little more tightly around him. He glanced at Steve, who was attempting to find his footing in the blur of choreographed spins that marked Bucky and Natasha’s relationship. “Are we going to meet at the show like you said, or would you want me to pick you up? I’m a total gentleman, Natasha can vouch for me.”

“That sounds...good.”

Bucky smiled, erasing all traces of the sarcastic, snarky character that had been in place only moment before. Steve had only met Bucky Barnes a grand total of two times, and yet he seemed to have more masks than Natasha. 

“I’ll be there at 7.” When he reached the door, he turned back to Natasha, a different tone in his voice. “Tasha. I can come over tomorrow night and help with the lines.”

“God, really?”

He nodded.

“Thank you so much.”

“It’s not that big a deal. I’m returning a favor.”

“I’ll see you, Bucky.”

“So long.”

The door shut behind him, trapping a cool blast of air in the room.

“Bucky.” Steve exhaled.

“Bucky.” Natasha confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't greattt, but it's kinda setting up Bucky and Natasha's relationship, if that makes any sense. I'm struggling a bit on deciding how important Natasha is gonna be in this storyline. Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


	4. Distant War

“And she almost ran me over! It was the most insane fucking thing, man. She looked right into my eyes, I held up my hand and kept running, and then she slams her car forward like she’s trying to kill me.” Sam shook his head a little, taking another bite out of his fry. “Fun part is, this isn’t even the first time it’s happened.”

“Maybe you ought to stop running on the streets.” Steve suggested, stealing one of Sam’s fries off his plate. “There’s at least a 90 percent chance that you won’t get hit by a car if you run in the park.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

“Hi, Sam.” Natasha slid into the seat next to theirs. “Hey, Rogers.”

“Hey, Natasha,” Sam glanced up at her. 

“Shouldn’t you be hiding in the dorms, frantically cramming to get your speeches perfect?” Steve said.

“That’s what I’m here for.” Bucky dropped in besides Natasha, draping an arm around her shoulders. “Tasha and I are running lines after lunch for at least four hours.”

“I’m so excited,” Natasha’s sarcastic tone dripped into her voice. “I’m stuck in a room with you for four hours, listening to criticism. Sounds amazing.”

But she leaned into Bucky’s chest, pulling his arm more securely around her shoulder. 

“I don’t know why you’re dating me when you two are already the perfect couple,” Steve joked.

“Hey.” Bucky pointed a finger at Steve, playfully accusing. “We have a date. Don’t forget. I’ve heard great things from Romanoff.”

“I don’t want to know anything she told you.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Who are you again?” Sam asked Bucky, a slight look of admiration on his face. 

“Bucky Barnes. Double major in theater and psychology. Pleased to meet ya.”

Steve had been grilling Natasha for details about Bucky for the last week, but she seemed unwilling to get into it. Despite knowing the basics of Bucky (his majors, he could sing well enough to bring women to tears, he seemed tougher than he was, he could beat Natasha in an arm wrestling competition), what he knew didn’t begin to cover all the questions that Bucky was shrouded by. He still didn’t know why Bucky had looked so exhausted that night outside the library. Maybe it was just Natasha’s busy schedule, but Steve got the feeling that she didn’t want to bring it up. There was something about the pair of them that made him think they knew each other better than anyone else in the world.

“Can you hurry up with your lunch?” Bucky chided Natasha. “I’m giving up an entire afternoon of research so I can help you with this. I think you can eat your salad a little faster.”

“And where’s your lunch?” she fired back.

“I ate breakfast at like 11. I’ll grab something later. Are you done yet?”

“Sure,” she said, rolling her eyes and shoving a large forkful of lettuce into your mouth. 

Both of them stood up, 

“You know, I’m starting to think the universe wants us to meet a little earlier than Nat’s show,” Steve blurted out, before he could lose his nerve. 

“You think?” Bucky grinned. “We could do coffee tomorrow morning. I’m guessing you’ve been to Hillside Cafe before, if you know your coffee at all.”

“No, I haven’t been, actually.” Steve hide a smile. 

“Then you don’t know what good coffee tastes like. You’ve been living in a lie. Tomorrow at 9?”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

Before they could share a soft smile or prolonged eye contact, Natasha grabbed Bucky by the elbow.

“And you said I’m the one who’s slowing us down?” she accused.

“Alright, alright, let’s head out.”

Natasha spun him around, tightly gripping onto his arm as she waved goodbye to Steve and Sam without turning around. As they walked away, Steve could see Natasha leaning closer to Bucky, her lips moving fast. Bucky shook his head a few times, his lips moving even faster. An argument outside the ears of anyone around them. Before long they rounded a corner and fled from Steve’s line of vision.

“So that’s Bucky?” Sam said, once Steve had turned his attention back to their lunch. “The guy you’re dating? Is Natasha gonna come with you two on your first date?”

“Come on, Sam. I think they’re kinda like siblings.” 

“Still. They would make one hell of a couple, in looks alone.”

“I got pretty lucky, didn’t I?” Steve agreed. “I just hope I, I don’t know, meet his expectations? I don’t want to bore him or anything, his life looks like it’s a million times more fascinating than mine. I’m an art major, what’s there to say about that.”

“Look.” Sam stared Steve directly in the eye. “You’ve gotta chill out. He’s going to like you. When have you met someone who doesn’t? You care more about that cat that sometimes hangs out by our dorm than most people care about anyone in their lives. Everyone wants to be loved and you love everyone. It’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Sam. Remind me that I have to hype you up for your next date.”

“Will do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Sam's story actually happened to me! Can you tell I'm a runner???
> 
> Ik this chapter is short but after this, they start to get much longer. Honestly, I'm struggling a lot with this fic right now. I feel like writing it isn't super healthy for me, and I'm also having issues with writing fanfic in general. There's more story coming, but I don't where it's going to go for sure atm.


	5. Lost in You

The sun burned into Steve’s eyes as he walked towards the busy shop, shielding his eyes with his hand. He had a cap and a pair on sunglasses in his bag, but Sam told him it made him look too much like an undercover agent of some sort. 

He walked into the cafe, losing himself in the sea of college student chatter. Interspersed in the crowd were a few familiar faces and he waved, hoping he didn’t look too nervous. There was an empty table towards the center of the room, but before Steve could start walking over, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. 

Bucky was standing behind him, looking apologetic. 

“Hey, I know I told you this was gonna be a date, but could get a to-go? I’m really sorry, but the the head of my research team wants me in this morning since I missed yesterday. I was thinking we could walk across the campus together, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, sure, that’s fine.”

They got into line as Steve frantically wracked his brain for possible conservation topics. Broadway musicals he had seen? Hmm. Maybe too much of a stereotype. Before he could blurt out that he had loved the Lion King, Bucky started talking.

“So, where are you from?”

“Brooklyn, New York.”

Bucky’s eyes got wide.

“No way. I’m from Brooklyn, too.”

“God, I love Brooklyn. I’m headed back to see my mom for winter break, I can’t wait.”'

“I am too, I’m meeting up with my family. I’m probably gonna have to babysit the kids again.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but it only looked to be in mock annoyance. “They drive me batshit crazy."

“You have siblings?” 

“Four. I’m the oldest. Let’s see, I think Abbie is in junior year now, Mark is a freshman? Possibly? And Em is in middle school. I’m not sure which grade. You?’

“Only child.” Steve smiled sadly. “Mom always wanted another one, but I had a lot of health issues as a kid, and then there was all that shit with my dead, so I was all she got.”

“Believe me, you do not want to be the oldest of four,” Bucky reassured him. “Your parents get free-babysitting, all the time. You’ve got a track meet? Nope, you’re taking your younger sister to her ballet class. A new audition? Better bring your brother with you. And don’t even ask me about middle school concerts.”

“It seems kinda fun to have a family like that. It was just me and my mom growing up.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Bucky looked like he wanted to inquire more into Steve’s family life, but was trying to figure out a polite way to bring it up. However, the cheery voice of the girl at the counter interrupted them. 

“Hi, how can I help you today?” she chirped.

Steve glanced unsteadily at Bucky, waiting to see what he did.

“Could I have a medium espresso?”

“Sure.” She typed it in. “And you?”

‘Oh, we’re, um, ordering separately.”

Bucky turned to him.

“No, we’re not.”

He dropped his tone of voice, speaking softly to Steve.

“Come on, it’s our first date. I’m allowed to buy you coffee.”

“I can’t let you buy it for me, we’re broke college students, remember?”

“It’s just a coffee,” Bucky insisted.

Seeing that this would carry on if he continued refusing, and taking note of the barista’s polite but tense expression as well as the line of people behind them, he conceded. Privately, he began planning how he would slip the money into Bucky’s pocket later.

“Fine.”

“What will be your order?”

He glanced at the menu again, trying to make sense of the options.

“I’ll have a medium cafe latte, thanks.”

She added his order and gave them a tight smile as Bucky handed over his student card and a handful of cash. She counted out the change and Bucky slipped what was left over in the tip jar.

“I’ll be right back,” she told them. 

Bucky seemed to realize that Steve was still hung up on the coffee and he nudged him gently with his shoulder.

“Hey, I’ll let you pay next time. But this is our first date, I can’t have you thinking I’m cheap.”

Steve laughed a little and the young man returned, holding two steaming mugs.

“Here you go, there’s sugar and milk over there.” She gestured to a side table. “Have a nice day!”

“You too,” Steve and Bucky said together.

They made their way over to the side table and Steve opened the lid of his cup, dumping in a couple of packets of sugar and a generous dose of milk. Bucky just watched him.

“You drink yours black?” Steve wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know how you could stand the flavor.”

“I don’t know how you can taste the coffee under all that sugar,” Bucky retorted. “It’s better this way. Plus, I think the caffeine kicks in faster if it’s not so diluted.”

“Whatever you say.”

Steve pushed open the door the shop, letting Bucky and three other people walk out before he exited. Bucky was waiting for him outside the door and they set off together, jackets zipped tightly and chilly fingers wrapped around coffee cups.

“What’s your research project about?’ Steve inquired.

“It’s kinda complicated.” Bucky looked hesitant to discuss. “We’re not really supposed to talk about it, ya know? It’s under wraps until we finish the big paper and release that. It’s going okay right now, though, and it better be since I’ve been working my ass off to get it done.”

“When are you finished with it by?”

Bucky suddenly looked tired, almost as tired as he had been outside the library.

“Another few months, probably.” He shrugged. “I gave up the show this season to work on it and I might not be able to do next season either.”

“It must be insane having a double major, I can’t imagine.”

“Well, I’ve always been an overachiever.” Bucky flashed a crooked grin. “Besides, my parents don’t think that theater qualifies as a professional career, it’s more of a ‘hobby.’ Given how many Broadway actors can’t afford to pay rent, I think I see where they’re coming from. But they let me do it as a double major, so long as I had something that makes money as my other major.”

“I’m an art major,” Steve challenged. “That’s even more ridiculous than theatre.”

“Your parents let you do that?” Bucky looked slightly shocked.

“Just my mom, actually. My dad would have probably called me some choice names threatened to throw me out of the house, but Mom kicked him out long before I was thinking about college.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve didn’t like talking about his dad all too much, but the years were beginning to build between his childhood and where he was right now. Thanks to years of therapy following middle school, he was at a better place.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

In the silence that followed, Bucky took three, large gulps of his coffee, draining what must have been half the cup.

“How do you drink your coffee so fast?” 

“It’s not really coffee to me, think less of a hot beverage and more of a legal drug that keeps you awake when you’re running on three hours of sleep.”

“Jesus, I can see what you meant when you said you were fucked up.”

Bucky stopped suddenly, in front of a large building with the words “Center for Social Innovation” written in large letters. 

“I’m afraid I have to leave you here,” Bucky apologized. 

“That was a really nice first date,” Steve put in, “it was nice getting to know you.”

“You too,” Bucky smiled. “Oh, and hey, before we go, can I get your number?”

“Yeah, I’ll put it into your phone for you.”

Bucky handed over his phone, the screen webbed with cracks. Carefully, Steve typed in his number and saved it under “Steve Rogers”. He gave the phone back to Bucky, who shoved it into his back pocket. 

“I’ll see you around,” he said.

“See you!” 

Steve watched Bucky walk up the steps, swallowed by the doors of the buildings, a coffee cup still in hand.


	6. Coat of Arms

Bucky: ready in 5?  
Steve: Sees you theb!

Steve’s fingers slipped as he hurriedly pressed send on his text, trying to ignore the obvious errors in the message. He grabbed his leather jacket from off the chair and spun around to see Sam, standing behind him.

“Hey, ready to go?”

The look on Steve’s face must have said it all, because Sam immediately burst into laughter.

“Don’t worry, I’m not dropping in on your date,” he assured Steve. “I’m going over later.”

“Good to know,” Steve muttered, shifting through piles of clothing. “Do you know where I left my wallet? It’s got my ticket in it.”

“Check under the bed?"

A knock at the door made Steve jump and caused Sam to shot him an obvious glance. 

Calm down, he mouthed as he opened the door.

Bucky was standing outside, looking slightly nervous, and Steve had to catch his breath for a moment, glancing up from his frantic search for the wallet. It was almost a high school cliche, the shy, nerdy girl drawing everyone’s attention when she turns up to prom looking stunning, except it wasn’t, because this was Bucky, and he couldn’t have been further from a cliche. He didn’t really look that different than the last time Steve had seen him, maybe his hair had been trimmed a little, his clothes didn’t look quite as rumped, but Steve took that moment to appreciate how damn stunning Bucky really was. He could feel his heart give two nervous hops in his chest when Bucky attempted a half smile.

“Good to see you again,” Sam acknowledged Bucky with a nod, oblivious to Steve’s spellbound appearance.

“You too.”

They stood in awkward silence by the entryway, Bucky drawing his arms around himself outside the door, Sam leaned against the doorframe. Sam seemed to realize something abruptly, and he jumped back. 

“Do you want to-uh-come-”

“Oh--no, that’s fine, I’m okay.”

The silence was almost palpable between them as Steve reached under the bed, wondering how long the standoff would last. Finally, wallet in hand, he joined them by the door.

“Hey, Bucky, needed to grab my wallet.”

“Took you long enough,” Bucky grumbled, but he leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Steve’s cheek, leaving him a little stunned.

His mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes lost all focus, like they didn’t know where to look. The ground. Bucky’s face. Sam’s face. Oh. The sky.

All this didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, who gave Steve a subtle pinch on the arm, enough to jolt him back to reality. Steve bit back a yelp.

“See you at the show!” Sam called, innocently. 

“Yeah, see you there.” As discreetly as possible, Steve turned around and flipped Sam off as he and Bucky walked away, before taking Bucky’s hand. 

“What show is this again?” Steve asked as they headed down the path.

Bucky glared at him, an expression of indignation and shock on his face.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what Chicago is.”

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight.” (Bucky giggled.) “Just because half my friends happen to do musical theater does not mean I know shit about it. Natasha had to explain to me that Dear Evan Hansen was not a prolonged series of letters in musical form.”

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone who can’t appreciate the art of theater. I bet you think it’s all about pretty voices and shiny costumes, right?”

“I mean...”

Bucky groaned and pulled Steve a little closer to him.

“I’m explaining everything about Chicago to you. Right now.”

“Is everyone who does theater as pretentious as you?”

“Shut it, Rogers.”

For the next few minutes as they walked down the path, Steve was treated to Bucky’s enthusiastic explanation of Chicago’s background, timeline, and main plot. Although Steve would have liked to say he was distracted from the speech by Bucky’s green eyes, he was too much of information nerd to ignore any of it. By the end, he was nearly as excited about the play as Bucky, and he had a considerable amount of knowledge about the history of the costumes. 

“Maybe you should become a theater guy,” Bucky teased. “You seem to like this stuff as much as I do.”

“Nah, I think I’m good with my crappy drawings. I’ll leave the singing to you and Nat.”

They approached the door of the theater together, the light from inside spilling out across their path. Bucky’s fingers were intertwined with Steve’s and they were freezing cold, icy pinpoints that buzzed against Steve’s skin. Steve tugged Bucky inside and they both handed their tickets to the girl working the door. She waved them inside.

“Do you want to grab a hot chocolate or something before we go in?” Steve suggested. “Your hands are freezing, you must be really cold.”

“It’s fine, let’s head in so we don’t miss anything.”

The auditorium was already filled with people and Steve spotted Sam in the back, who waved at him. He and Bucky found their way to their seat and settled down as the lights began to dim. Steve found Bucky’s hand again when the curtain began to go up.

Natasha was intoxicating. She held one of the main female roles, but beyond that, it was impossible to ignore to her when she faded into the background dances of some scenes. Thanks to Bucky’s tutoring, Steve knew that she played the character of Velma, a vengeful wife who had murdered her husband and sister. She fell into the role as though she had been born to it, and Steve suddenly had a difficult time remembering that she hadn’t actually murdered anyone. 

When she finished her second song, her voice low and raspy but somehow ringing out throughout the entire auditorium, Steve leaned over to Bucky.

“She’s--that was unbelievable.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, his eyes glued to the stage.

Maria as Roxie, another woman who had murdered her husband, was the counterpart to Natasha. If anything, she was almost more impressive than Natasha. While it wasn’t hard to see Natasha loosening up and slipping into the role of a woman bound by no rules, it was much harder to picture Maria, the most level headed and practical person Steve could think of, discarding the rule book. But tonight, she did just that, owning the stage with a character who crossed all the lines. 

When intermission arrived, Steve had to take a minute to shake off the way Natasha’s voice echoed through his head.

“I think everyone here is a little in love with Natasha and Maria tonight,” he commented to Bucky.

“Excluding me,” Bucky protested. “She threw her sociology textbook at me after I told her that she had mispronounced ‘girdle’ wrong for the third time in a row.”

“Well, I guess she can thank you for a performance like this then,” Steve teased. “If she looks to you for help on this stuff, I can’t wait to get to watch you perform.”

“Yeah,” Bucky responded, but his voice had lost all the energy charged into it. He loosened his hand from Steve’s grasp and Steve pulled away, wondering why Bucky had turned cold so quickly.

He got lost in the lights and the dazzle of the show soon after though, hanging onto the notes of the songs and the lines that Natasha and Maria spit back and forth at each other. Before long the actors came on to sing their last song, a whirl of black skirts flying and feet tapping against the ground. The cast returned from the wings to take their bows, and the instant Natasha’s red hair was spotted from the curtains, the entire audience rose to their feet and stayed standing when Maria came on to take her bow. They all joined hands, took a final bow, and disappeared into the wings. 

The lights went up in the theater and the applause died down and slowly faded away altogether. Steve got up and started to turn around, looking for Sam, but Bucky grabbed his hand again and tugged him out of the row of seats. 

“Come on,” he said. “They’ll let me backstage.”

He and Steve wove through the crowds of people and at one point, a girl stopped Bucky, recognition flashing in her eyes.

“Hey, weren’t you the guy who played the lead in Hamlet last year?”

“Umm, yeah, I was,” Bucky looked reluctant to continue the conversation.

“Oh, my god. You were amazing! I was wondering if I was ever gonna get to see you on stage again. Are you coming back soon?”

“Definitely.” Bucky smiled calmly, but his eyes were looking everywhere but in the girl’s face. His fingers tapped rapidly against his leg. “I’d love to keep chatting, but I was actually on my way to congratulate a friend.”

“Go ahead, I don’t want to keep you! I hope I’ll be seeing in a show soon.” She grinned brightly at him.

Bucky mumbled an incoherent response and moved around the girl to keep walking through the crowd. He kept his head down and his steps quick, like he didn’t want anyone else to stop him.

What was Bucky’s deal with theater? There was no doubt he loved it, Steve was sure of that, but he backed away from the topic anytime someone brought up the idea of his acting. Despite two dates with Bucky, Steve felt like he was getting further from him, not closer. Spending more time with Bucky just lead to more questions and almost no answers. But something about Bucky kept Steve firmly roped in. It was those small moments where he didn’t look quite so tired or withdrawn or stressed and he looked happy. When he talked about theater, when he joked around with Steve, when he laughed aloud, Bucky was entirely magnetic. It was impossible to escape his pull and even now, with Bucky drawn into the shell of himself, Steve could still feel it. That’s what kept him diligently following Bucky backstage. 

They reached the back door and Bucky went to open it, but Natasha beat him too it. Her hair was twisted up into a tight bun and she was already back in street clothes, looking all the world like any average college student.

“You were incredible tonight, Tasha.” He threw his arms around her and she squeezed him back. 

As soon as Bucky let go of her, Natasha gave Steve a hug as well. When the hugging was done, she smiled at both of them. “Thanks so much for coming tonight, guys.”

“Honestly, it couldn’t have been a better date,” Steve said. “I got to hold Bucky’s hand and see one of my best friends kick ass onstage.”

Natasha laughed and looked happier than she had looked in a long time. Behind them, the door opened again and Maria walked out, also dressed in her street clothes.

She exchanged quick hugs with Steve and Bucky who both congratulated her.

“Is anyone up for dinner?” she asked, turned to Natasha. “All I’ve had tonight is an apple and I am absolutely starving.”

“Yes, that sounds like a plan,” Natasha agreed. “Steve, you and Bucky could come in my car.”

“Oh, I don’t think I should go,” Bucky protested. “It’s kinda late and I have to go to the lab tomorrow morning.”

“Come one, Bucky,” Natasha said. “It’s to celebrate a great first night.”

She held his stare and Steve could have sworn he witnessed a silent argument between the two of them. In the end, Bucky conceded.

“All right, I’ll go.”


	7. Fingers in a Fist

The four of them regrouped at a 24 hour diner 30 minutes later, crowded around a red booth. Natasha and Maria both sported dramatic eyeliner from the show and there was a little glitter dusted into Maria’s dark hair. The pair of them could be Broadway actresses, taking a break from the flashing lights of the stage.

A young waiter dropped off water for their table along with the menus.

“When’s your next show?” Bucky asked, casually thumbing through the menu. 

“Tomorrow night.” Natasha sighed, pulling her hair down from her bun to redo it all over again. “And Val hasn’t been able to get out of bed for the last 48 hours. Did you see that five minute gap when Hope missed her fucking cue?”

“It was closer to fifteen seconds,” Bucky said, sliding his menu to the center of the table. Steve followed suit. “You know it just felt long.

“Because it was a really fucking important scene! I don’t think it’s that hard to hear from the wings.”

Maria and Bucky rolled their eyes simultaneously, making Steve laugh. Natasha was borderline intolerable after shows, analyzing every part that went wrong and every line skipped. Her own performance she tore apart later, Steve knew that. She had three boxes full of black notebooks in her dorm room, each filled with notes in a cursive scrawl, what she needed to change, what she needed to do better.

“Did you hear the scream backstage during ‘Mr. Cellophane’?” Maria asked.

“Yeah, I thought that was part of the show,” Steve frowned.

“Bruce tripped into the prop table,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “It wasn’t even him that screamed, it was one of the girls from the jail scene. Everything was so chaotic, Natasha had like three minutes to dig out her prop from this giant pile and someone had to get Bruce an ice pack and no one was allowed to raise their voice. Although I’m pretty sure that Natasha cursed Bruce out at least twice.”

“Oh my god, I haven’t apologized to him yet,” Natasha realized, grabbing her phone from the table.

As she was swiping into her texts with Bruce, the waiter arrived.

“What can I get for everyone today?”

“I’ll take the eggplant parmesan with the soup of the day,” Natasha said, looking up from her phone to flash a quick smile at the waiter. 

“I’ll have the garden vegetable burger,” Maria said.

“Could I have the field green salad?” Bucky asked.

“Sure.” The waiter wrote it down. “What kind of dressing would you like with that?”

“No dressing, please.”

The waiter looked to Steve.

“I’ll have the classic hamburger, thanks.”

“I’ll be back with your orders shortly,” the waiter said. 

Natasha clearly remained on edge, pulling her hair out and putting it back up over and over, but Maria attempted to distract everyone by recounting the various small disasters that had gone on backstage and before the show, from Val getting the flu only two nights before opening night to the main piano playing losing all his sheet music. With that many things gone wrong, it was hard to believe the show had continued smoothly from onstage. Although Natasha occasionally chipped in with something that happened while she was performing and Bucky added a sarcastic comment from time to time, it was mostly Maria and Steve who carried the conversation. Natasha was lost in her head and Bucky’s expression wasn’t too far off that either.

The food arrived and the waiter set it down in front of them.

“Enjoy, everyone.”

Natasha seemed to snap out of her trance when she began to eat the eggplant parmesan, her tone transforming her into her usual self. 

“What are you doing in the lab tomorrow that’s so urgent?” she questioned Bucky in between bites.

Steve thought he would dodge the question, as he had before when Steve had asked him, but he responded to Natasha.

“We’re getting into the experimental part of the research,” he told her, picking at a tomato. “Human behavior modeling.”

Natasha frowned.

“Haven’t you only run the data once so far?” she pointed out. “It doesn’t really seem safe to start testing when the experiment isn’t totally secure.”

“Dr. Zola says it’s fine.” Bucky shrugged. “Everything checked out when we went over it last week and we haven’t changed anything since then.”

“What’s your research about, exactly?” Maria asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

“It’s kinda hard to explain,” Bucky started, “but it has to do with how the human mind responds to commands and what you can get people to do under certain circumstances. I can’t really say any more than that.”

“That sounds interesting.” Maria looked bewildered but also like she was trying to be polite. “And what would you use that kind of research for?”

“It’s most going to presented as a type of sociology study, new ways you can force yourself to become productive and motivated through the use of commands. That is, if the hypothesis holds.”

“And who are you testing this on?” Natasha broke in.

“A couple of students volunteered. It’s all totally safe, don’t worry about them.” Bucky stared into his salad, spearing an onion with his fork. “We’re closer to getting done than I thought, we might actually get the paper out before the deadline.”

“Does that mean you can do the show with us this season?” Maria said brightly.

“I might be able to,” Bucky mumbled.

“It would be so great to have you back again,” Maria said, missing Bucky’s lack of enthusiasm. 

“Hey, if Bucky does the show next season, would you be interested in working on set design or something?” Natasha asked Steve. “I’m not sure how much time you have to commit, but it’s not a lot.”

“That sounds fun,” Steve agreed, leaning back into the booth. “I probably would be able to do that.”

“How’s your portfolio coming together?” Maria said, and for the next few minutes Steve talked about his art while everyone finished their food. 

“So yeah, basically I need to pick something to center my concentration series on and then I’ll pretty much be done,” Steve concluded. 

The waiter came back around with the bill, collecting the empty plates. He paused at Bucky’s plate, still scattered with majority of the vegetables shoved up against the edges of the dish.

“Are you done with this?” he asked.

“Yup.” Bucky gave him a tight smile.

They split the bill and Natasha was the first to stand up, wrapping her black coat around her. 

“I’ll give you guys a ride back to campus,” she said to Steve and Bucky. She gave Maria a pointed glance. “Rest up tonight.”

“The same to you,” Maria replied dryly, pulling her scarf around her neck. 

They left the restaurant and Steve and Bucky piled into Natasha’s car, Bucky claiming shotgun before Steve could do anything.

As they pulled away from the parking lot, Steve’s eyes started to close. He had never been good at pulling all nighters, even during junior year of high school when he took four AP classes. And now it was 1 in the morning and he been up late the night before finishing his paper for Globalization. There wasn’t very much keeping him from slumping against his seatbelt and closing his eyes.

Natasha drove in silence for awhile and Steve was truly beginning to doze off when she spoke.

“Is he asleep?”

He heard shuffling in the front seat, presumably Bucky turning around to see.

“Yeah, he’s out cold.”

“Alright, now we have the car to ourselves. Why didn’t you finish dinner tonight?”

Steve was shocked by the venom in her voice. No, wait, that wasn’t right. She didn’t sound angry or accusing. She sounded scared. He squeezed his eyes tighter, wondering if he should tell them that no, he was awake, but Bucky was already shooting back a reply of his own. 

“It was probably 12 when we got there, I ate dinner before the show. Sue me if I don’t want to eat two dinners in one day.”

“Bullshit. You didn’t eat before you came.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Because you’ve been skipping meals for the last fucking month.”

Steve sucked in a fast breath. He wasn’t meant to hear this, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt. Part of him was desperate to know this about Bucky, to find out why he called himself fucked up. 

Natasha continued, her words fast and furious. They carried more bite than her lines from the play.

“You’re going to give me some crap about how you’ve been eating in between classes, but I know your roommate and he says that you stopped going to the dining hall for dinner with him three weeks ago. And I know for a fact that you don’t go to breakfast anymore. You can’t do this again, Bucky.”

There was a catch in her voice and suddenly, she sounded fragile, if Natasha could ever sound that way. But Bucky was cold in his response.

“I don’t have a fucking problem, whatever you think. You can’t check in with a few people and pretend you know my entire goddamn life story. You don’t know what I’ve been eating. And you know what, fuck this. I can eat what I want, Natasha. You can stop making this into such a giant fucking deal.”

“I’m making this into a big deal because I don’t want you to die, Bucky!” She raised her voice loud enough to shatter windows, then lowered it to a whisper shout when she remembered that Steve was supposed to be asleep. “This isn’t the game that you think it is. This doesn’t make you better. You don’t deserve this.”

Bucky took a long moment to respond and Steve could hear Natasha drawing in slow, controlled breaths as Bucky gathered his thoughts. When he spoke again, the fight had gone out of his words.

“I’ve been eating less because of the research. I don’t eat as much when I’m stressed since I just end up throwing it up. This isn’t what happened last time. I’m not trying to hurt myself.” His words were kinder, offering a compromise.

“It’s not okay to stop eating,” Natasha relented. She was quieter now, her voice softer, but there was tone of fear running under her words. “You can’t do this every time something happens.”

Steve felt the car make a sharp turn and begin to slow down. 

“Drop it, okay? I’m done with the research in a month or two anyways and then this will be over. You’ve got to stop making it seem like I’m going to drop dead from skipping a few meals.”

The car came to a stop completely, but Steve didn’t hear either Natasha or Bucky open their car doors. He got the feeling that Natasha was struggling to find the right words, stumbling for a phrase that would somehow avoid making the situation worse.

“Don’t forget I love you.”

Now Steve heard the car door open, and a second later, the other door opened to. Footsteps crunched through gravel, approaching his side of the car and someone was shaking him awake. 

“I’m up, I’m up,” he protested weakly. “Stop shaking me!”

“Have a nice nap?” Natasha quipped sarcastically. “We’re back at the dorms.”

Rubbing his eyes, Steve looked around, taking in the buildings looming above them. The pathway lights were on, but everything was somewhat dim, throwing Bucky and Natasha’s faces into shadow. 

“I’ll walk you back to your room,” Bucky offered, and Steve was too tired to say no.

Natasha started to walk back to her car, but not before fixing Bucky with a long stare, the only evidence that something had happened between them. She got in the car without saying goodnight, and before long her car was roaring down the road.

Steve and Bucky walked in silence as Steve tired to figure out how to bring up to Bucky that he had been awake the entire time, that he knew something he shouldn’t. But he was exhausted and he was afraid he would blurt out something that would scare Bucky off completely if he tried to bring it up. Bucky gave no sign that he had fought with Natasha, his silence didn’t carry any suggestion of anger or annoyance. 

When they arrived at Steve’s dorm room, they both paused for a minute, Bucky froze in place like he was waiting for Steve to say something so he could go. Steve, however, was practically swaying back and forth, gripping onto the door handle as a lifeline. His thoughts were slightly fuzzy around the edges, but he managed to process that he was supposed to say something to Bucky. In his head, Natasha’s words and his goodbyes got all tangled up and when he spoke, he was slightly surprised by the outcome.

“Thanks for taking me to the show, Bucky, I love you. Goodnight.”

It was hard to tell with the low lights and Steve’s blurry vision, but he thought he saw Bucky’s eyes open a little wider. He felt his eyes grow wider too. He had not meant to say that. Not so early, not now, not when he had eavesdropped on a conversation that was definitely meant to be private. He wanted to say it, yes, despite only knowing Bucky for a few weeks. They was something about Bucky that felt so familiar. Bucky felt like home, a home that he would always come back to. “I love you” felt right, but it wasn’t supposed to be now. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

“I’m sorry--that was---I don’t want to move things too fast, I’m just really tired, you don’t have to-” Steve broke off, seeing the smile that had come across Bucky’s face. 

“I love you too,” Bucky said. Then he leaned forward and kissed Steve, gripping onto his shoulders to keep steady. The kiss was quick and hot and Bucky pulled away before either of them tried to deepen it. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He turned down the path, leaving Steve with his hand still on the doorknob, wondering if the fall was going to kill him.


	8. Spent Your Whole Life Running

Steve didn’t wake up until noon the next day. When he finally came to, the first thing he saw was Sam, flopped out on his bed. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, slowly sitting up. 

“Dude, I am so bored,” Sam confessed. “I finished a big project this morning and I’ve done nothing since then.”

“Well, you could..” Steve paused for a minute. “We could go on a run if you want.”

Sam instantly perked up. 

“I’ll meet you by the commons in 10, I need to grab my water bottle.” He sprang out of the door and dashed away, leaving Steve to groan and pull himself out of bed.

His memories of last night weren’t totally clear, but he remembered the gist of it. The more he thought about it, the more the thoughts piled up in his brain, each one attempting to drown the others out. Maybe it was a good thing he was going for a run.

He changed into clean clothes and pulled on a pair of worn sneakers before heading out to join Sam. 

Neither of them bothered with stretches before they set off, and soon, the cold winter air was blasting through Steve’s lungs. Most people around them were bundled in coats, moving from one class to the next as quickly as possible, but Steve took in every step. 

He listened to Sam’s heavy breathing behind him. As they had learned before, Steve could easily outpace Sam if the occasion arose, but on days like these, it felt better to fall into stride with him. Running with someone else was a special kind of intimacy, different from friendships or dating. It was matching your breaths with your partner, feeling your feet thud into place next to one another. It was knowing how to work as team, without going too quickly or too slowly. Steve loved it.

As he jogged down the path with Sam, he forced himself to stop thinking about Bucky and Natasha’s argument, or else he knew it would consume him. Instead, he let his mind drift to tamer things.

“Hey, Sam, what do you think I should do my concentration series about?” 

Sam slowed his pace and Steve patiently waited for a response as he caught his breath.

“I don’t know, man,” he gasped. “Running?”

“No, that doesn’t really work,” Steve replied absentmindedly. “Do you think I do an early 1930’s theme?”

“You’re--” Sam sucked in a deep gasp. “--obsessed with the 1930’s. Try---something new.”

They rounded a corner, bringing them back to the start of the path. Steve decelerated, taking a minute to stretch his legs while Sam got his breathing back under control. When he had stopped panting long enough to form full sentences, he turned to Steve.

“Are you going to the show again tonight?” he said.

“Yeah, probably. How come?’

“Could you get some photos while you’re there? I have a friend working in the school newspaper and I was supposed to get photos for her yesterday, but I completely forgot.”

“Sure, I can take a few. Oh my god.”

“Are you having a heart attack?” Sam grasped Steve’s arm. “Are you dying?”

“What? No, I had an idea. I’m going to do theater as the focus for my concentration series. I spend so much time around actors as it is, I might as well get some use out of it.”

“If it works for you.” Sam said. “I stand by my earlier idea about running. That why you have to come to all my track meets.”

“No fucking way,” Steve shot back. “All I do is watch you run around in circles for a few minutes. I can get a pet hamster for that.”

Sam laughed. “Let’s head back.”

They walked back to their dorm together, trudging through the icy air.

“Hey, Steve, how come you didn’t want to join the track team again?” Sam asked. “I mean, I run on it and you could beat me blindfolded and hopping on one leg.”

“I don’t really like the idea of pitting myself against my teammates,” Steve said. “I like running and I do it because I enjoy it. I don’t see the point to making it into something competitive.”

Sam nodded, taking Steve’s answer without question. It wasn’t as simple as that, but it was close enough. In elementary and middle school and the beginning of high school, Steve had been teased and bullied mercilessly for always being last, never coming close to succeeding in anything physical. It wasn’t until his growth spurt in junior year that he became a super athlete, but not competing felt like the right thing to do. He didn’t want the bitterness of the pain he had endured in the past to seep into something he genuinely liked doing.

“How’s your volunteer thing going?” he asked Sam, bringing his focus back to the conversation at hand.

“Not bad. It’s been kinda tough lately with Garcia and her accident and all, but the rest of them are doing okay.”

“What happened to Garcia?”

“She thought she saw an IED in the road when she was driving home from work, first thing she did was swerved off to the side. Problem was, there was another car right there.”

Steve winced, remembering the one time he had met Garcia when picking Sam up from the therapy sessions he volunteered at. She was a quiet woman, hidden behind her dark bangs, but when she went out into the parking lot where her husband was waiting, a little girl ran out from the car to meet her. 

“Is she okay?”

“I visited her yesterday, she’s doing fine. Broken wrist and a mild concussion that she’s getting better from. They decided that her husband’s gonna drive for her for the next few months.”

“It’s good that she’s safe.”

They reached their dorm room, and Steve pulled open the door. They both relaxed into the warmth of the building.

“Dibs on first shower!” Sam called.

“You know that there’s more than one shower in those bathrooms, right?”

Sam was already halfway down the hallway.

“Only time I’m ever faster than Steve Rogers,” he teased.

Steve suppressed a smile as he moved more slowly to get his stuff together before heading down the hallway.

Twenty minutes later he returned to his room, arriving sooner than Sam despite having started his shower later. He pulled out his laptop and sketchpad and settled down into his bed, scrolling through his camera roll. Most of his photos were blurry selfies of him and Sam, a couple landscapes he had thought looked pretty, and about 200 photos of a collection of jars from his ceramics unit. He had never quite figured out how to shape the vases right, even after examining the photos for hours. 

After several long minutes of scrolling, he finally came across a few photos of Natasha. Most of them were half blacked out, as a result of her trying to put her hand over the camera before he took the shot. She was weird about having her photo taken, missing from almost all photos of them and their group of friends, which meant Steve had to be increasingly subtle in his photography of her. Thanks to this, Steve managed to stumble across a few photos he had taken at rehearsal one day. The lights were dim enough that Natasha hadn’t noticed him sneaking in a few pictures and looking at them now, Steve was glad she hadn’t. He clicked on the photo and it filled up the screen, Natasha’s green eyes pinning him down, her chin tilted upwards in defiance. Steve stared carefully at her, trying to figure out how he should incorporate the concept of acting in the portrait and that moment, Sam walked in. 

“Why are you staring at a photo of Romanoff?”

“Why were you in the shower for so long?”

They glared at each other for a moment.

“I’m drawing her for my art project,” Steve explained at the same time as Sam mumbled “I like standing in the hot water.”

There was another moment of silence between them, broken suddenly when the door was pulled open.

Hastily, Steve slammed his laptop shut, eager to avoid another awkward confrontation, which was a good thing, because the person behind the door was Natasha herself. She looked completely unruffled, not like she had broken into someone else’s dorm room. Bucky stood a ways behind her, looking a little embarrassed.

“Steve,” she said, unperturbed by the shocked expressions on Sam and Steve’s faces. “The bathroom in our building broke down and there’s no maintenance guy on campus right now. Can you come and fix it?”  
“Why is Bucky with you?” Those were the only words Steve managed to get out.

Natasha looked slightly surprised, glancing behind as though she was noticing Bucky for the first time.

“Oh yeah, I went to him first but he didn’t know how to do it, so I decided to go to you. I told him to tag along because I figured you might want to do it more if you heard it from your boyfriend.”

Both Bucky and Steve flushed, causing Natasha to raise an eyebrow.

“So, will you do it? Or do I need to tell Bucky to beg you for me?”

“Sorry, Nat,” Steve said quickly, trying to save Bucky from further embarrassment. “I’ve got no clue how to fix stuff like that.”

“I know how to,” Sam spoke up, drawing a look of surprise from everyone in the room. 

“You do?” Steve asked, incredulously. 

“Umm, yeah, man, I grew up in an apartment with four other people and one bathroom. Trust me, I can fix your bathroom.”

“Great!” Natasha smiled. “You can come over right now, we have a box of tools there.”

Steve gave Sam the “you got yourself into this look” before he walked out the door, trailing closely behind Natasha. With the two of them gone, Steve tried to turn back to his work, but with a start, he remembered Bucky.

He looked up and saw Bucky standing outside the door, looking uncertain.

“Come in,” Steve beckoned. “I’m sorry Nat dragged you into this.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not like I was doing anything that important anyways.

Now that Bucky was standing in front of him, Steve tried hard not to analyze him, the events of last night playing on rewind in his head. He did his best to ignore the hollows of Bucky’s face, etched darkly into the skin.

“So,” he said, before he could say anything bad, “do you want to grab a seat?”

There was a chair by the desk in the room, and Bucky pulled it up to Steve’s bed where Steve was sitting cross legged on his blanket. 

“What were you doing when we bust in?” Bucky asked. “That wasn’t my idea, by the way. I thought we were going to knock but Natasha opened the door. You should probably start locking it.”

“Right,” Steve said, thinking back to all the times him and Sam had left it open, “that’s a good idea. Anyways, I was a working on part of my portfolio, the concentration series I was telling Maria about.”

“I’m assuming you picked a topic, then.”

“Yeah, I’m going to it on theater. And, uh, don’t tell Natasha about this, but one of my pieces is going to be a portrait of her.”

“Can I see it?” Bucky leaned forward in the seat.

“I haven’t done any work on it yet, I’ve been trying to figure out what I want it to look like. But you can see the photo I’m drawing off of, if you want.”

Steve opened his laptop and turned it towards Bucky, so he could see the photo.

“Wow. You’ve got an eye for this, Steve.”

Steve faltered for a moment, slightly shocked by the praise. “Thanks.”

“This probably isn’t helpful, but I’ve got a few photos of Natasha on my camera roll too.”

“No, that would be great, I’m not sure what I want to do with my piece right now, so anything helps.”

Bucky dug his phone out from his pocket, turning it on and tapping the screen a few times. He handed it over to Steve, with an album entitled “tasha” open.

Steve scrolled through, taking in the photos. While some of them were of Natasha dancing or reciting monologues on stage, looking powerful and poised, many of them were also of her looking more human than Steve had ever seen. As he scrolled, an idea started to come together.

He paused one photo, towards the end of the album. Bucky had captured Natasha laughing on the floor of the studio, makeup smudged around her eyes and a script half scattered around her. She looked young. Maybe it just because she was laughing.

“Did that help at all?” Bucky asked, noticing that Steve had stopped scrolling.

“Yeah, definitely. I’ve got such a good idea. For my piece on her I’m gonna do a series, starting with her the more casual photos of her and then moving onto the photos of her acting. It’ll represent the idea of ‘getting into character’ for a role. The concentration is supposed to have a theme as well and with this piece I’m going to connect the idea of how people change their personalities based on what they--” Bucky’s eyes looked a little glazed and Steve realized his mistake. “Sorry if I started rambling. I talk about art for hours when people let me.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky shook his head, like he was trying to clear out his thoughts. “It was cute to see how much you love what you’re doing.”

“Oh.”

Bucky smiled. “Here, show me the photos you want to draw and I’ll send them to you.” 

He passed the phone to Bucky and leaned over Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky swiped through the album, pausing to save the photos that Steve said he wanted. They were getting towards the end when Steve had Bucky stop on the photo that he had seen before, of Natasha on the studio floor. 

“When’d you take this photo?”

“Might have been freshmen year, I think.”

“Damn, you’ve known her for that long?”

“I’ve known her for 7 years. We went to high school together.”

Steve whistled under his breath. “Wow, that is a long time.”

“Yeah, I had more photos of her from then but they didn’t transfer when I got a new phone.”

“Hey, if you know her so well, why didn’t I meet you when I first started hanging out with her?”

“When did you meet her?”

“Last semester of last year. We were taking three classes together.”

“That’s why. I started my research project that semester, everything got really crazy. I stopped seeing Natasha as much.”

“It’s nice we got to meet in the end, though. Sometimes things work themselves out.”

“Speaking of, it’s a kinda weird coincidence that we’re going to be in NYC at the same time. Would you want to take the opportunity to meet up?”

Bucky didn’t meet Steve’s eyes as he asked the question; he kept his gaze fixed to his lap. 

“That sounds great, Bucky,” Steve replied softly, trying to dissipate some of the nervous energy that was radiating off Bucky. “I’d love to.”

“You would?”

“Yes.”

Without too much of a warning, Bucky turned and kissed Steve quickly. They clung on for a moment, sinking into the kiss before breaking it apart  
.  
“This is going to be a great Christmas,” Steve said, filling the silence before it could begin. 

“Excuse you, I’m Jewish,” Bucky retorted. 

“Wait, actually?”

“No.” Bucky grinned.

Steve grabbed his pillow off the bed and swatted Bucky lightly. “Bastard.”


	9. Corners of Your Mind

The next time Steve saw Bucky, it was in Bucky’s dorm room, a week and a half later. They hadn’t seen each other at all for the past week, both of them caught up in finals and end of term papers. 

Despite this, Steve had somehow managed to find time to text Bucky every day, usually a quick text about a funny mistake he had made on his exam or a countdown of the days left until he was done. The last few days, they had been texting about transportation to NYC. Like most New Yorkers, neither Steve or Bucky could drive, having spent most of their days walking and taking the subway around the city. They decided to get Natasha to drive them to the train station. After the train, there was a bus they could take into the city, and Bucky invited Steve over so they could figure out what train to buy tickets for.

Steve approached Bucky’s door and knocked cautiously.

“Coming!” Bucky’s voice was muffled by the door. There were the sounds of some shuffling around from inside and then Bucky pulled the door open.

Steve sucked in a breath. Bucky looked bad. He was smiling a little, and the light hadn’t gone out of his eyes, but fuck. The shirt he was wearing hung off his bones, draping around his hands, and Steve could have painted the circles under his eyes, stenciled in the lines on his forehead. He looked like he had been worn to the bone. 

Trying to hide surprise and jolt of pain that had hit him from seeing this Bucky this way, Steve tried for a normal smile.

“Hey, Bucky, how’s it going?”

Bucky moved aside from the door so Steve could walk in. He lived in a shared building with multiple rooms, and wove throughout them as he took his time to answer the question. 

“It’s been okay,” he said. “I only managed to finish my psych paper last night and I probably failed my stats final, but it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Steve gently pressed.

“Yeah, it’s just that Dr. Zola wants me to come back from break early so we can keep working on the project and I haven’t gotten enough done and my finals went horribly and…” He trailed off, letting his words hang in the air. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you all that. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He slumped into a couch, like the strings keeping him suspended had suddenly been cut off. His head dropped into his hands and Steve heard him take a faltering, unstable breath. He sat down on the couch besides Bucky, trying to figure out if touch would make it worse. In the end, he settled for a light hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’m your boyfriend, Bucky. I’m not gonna stick around to only see the best parts of your life, when everything is going perfectly. I’m here for the bad parts, too. I’m here for the whole thing.”

Bucky pulled his head up slowly, like it took more strength than he had available.

“You don’t want to see the bad parts.”

“You gave me a warning already, remember? You told me you were fucked up and I said yes when you asked me out anyways. This is my choice, you can’t decide for me how much I can handle.”

“Sorry.”

“Bucky, you don’t have to be sorry.” Steve didn’t know exactly what to say. He was so fucking terrified of screwing up, of saying the wrong thing and watching Bucky bolt. But as he watched, Bucky seemed to come down from his shaky, stuttery high. He straightened his back and turned to Steve, all traces of uncertainty gone from his eyes. 

“I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that. I’m running on about 3 hours of sleep right now and I don’t know. I guess I snapped. But I’m okay, I promise.”

Steve wanted to ask Bucky if that was really true. He knew what it sounded like when a student snapped from lack of sleep, he had seen Sam go off the walls more than once. Bucky had sounded desperate, not half-crazed. He had sounded scared. Yet Steve didn’t push his luck, Bucky was clearly trying to steer the topic away. 

“Alright, as long as you’re good. Do you want me to make us some coffee?”

“Oh, sure, I mean, you probably don’t know where everything is, maybe I should just do it.”

“I can figure it out,” Steve assured him. “I’ve been in a kitchen before.”

“Okay.” Bucky was unsettled, Steve could tell. He shifted around on the couch like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “I’ll go get my laptop so we can buy the tickets.”

Several minutes later, they reconvened on the couch, Bucky’s laptop on the coffee table. Steve came in, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. 

“I think I remembered that you drink yours black,” he said, handing Bucky his mug.

“Right, I believe my exact words were ‘legal drug.’”

Steve found a comfortable place next to Bucky, leaning into him as he sipped his coffee. 

“So, here are the most affordable ticket prices I’ve found.”

Bucky walked Steve through the various options and they debated them before settling on 6:55 AM train. Once Bucky put in the order for the tickets, Steve realized that technically, he should be leaving now, but he didn’t want to. Bucky was warm and comfortable next to him and there was a certain lull of comfort that came with listening to Bucky’s voice.

Luckily, Bucky seemed unwilling to change anything as well.

“Do you want to hang around and watch something?” he asked Steve. 

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Bucky opened Netflix on his laptop and clicked on the icon for Black Mirror.

“I’ve never seen this before,” Steve remarked.

“Oh my god. You’ve never seen Black Mirror?” Bucky stared at Steve incredulously. “Where have you been living for the last year?”

“I don’t watch that much Netflix,” Steve confessed. 

“Okay, we’re gonna to watch as much of it as we can.”

Bucky started the first episode and it wasn’t long before Steve was hooked. The show was creepy and got under his skin in a way that left him feeling ready to jump at every turn. 

Somewhere between the third and the fourth episodes, Bucky’s laptop moved from the coffee table onto his lap. Steve rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder, wincing internally at how boney it was, but holding back any comments. 

When they hit the third episode of the second season, Steve stifled a yawn. 

“Could we save this episode for a little later? I think I might fall asleep on this couch if we keep watching.”

Bucky rubbed his eyes. “I forgot how addicting this show is, it must be past 7 by now.”

Steve glanced out the window, where a sky of mostly black rested over the campus. “How come your roommates aren’t here?”

“Lucy and Ben finished their finals early and went home yesterday, Annie is staying over at her boyfriend’s apartment, and Eli works late on Fridays. Jen should be here soon, though, but she might be having dinner with her girlfriend.”

“I think Jen’s got the right idea. We should get some dinner, do you know any good place nearby?”

“I don’t really want to go out tonight, if that’s okay with you.” Bucky was ready to bolt again. He kept casting his eyes to the door and away from Steve. “You could go if you want, that’s fine with me. I need to get some sleep anyways.” 

Steve could tell that Bucky was trying, as politely as possible, to kick to him out the building. He should leave. It would be better. But he had promised Bucky he would be there for all of it, and something told him that the fridge would remain firmly shut if he left now.

“I’ll make something for us,” Steve suggested, and before Bucky had a chance to protest, he continued. “It’s not a big deal, I’ll throw some pasta in a pot or something. I haven’t gotten to see you in over a week, dinner would be nice.”

Bucky didn’t want to agree, as his expression read that he would much rather run, but he nodded slowly. “Okay.”


	10. Safe and Warm

It took 30 minutes, two bandaids, and some muffled cursing from Steve before dinner was finished. Bucky had given up trying to convince Steve to let him help cook and instead shown Steve the location of all the cooking supplies with a resigned sigh. Following, he had retreated to the living room with a stack of paper and a pen. 

Steve ducked his head into the room and called out to Bucky, who was scrawling notes on one of the sheets of paper.

“The food’s done.”

“One minute.” Bucky didn’t look up. 

Steve walked over to him and sat down.

“Hey, I think you need to take a break for a moment. Let’s eat.”

Reluctantly, Bucky put down the pen. His handwriting was messy and chaotic, black ink across the page. He followed Steve to the dining room table, where he had set out two plates of pasta with some peppers added in.

“I hope it tastes okay,” Steve said. “My mom taught me how to cook, but I’m not sure that she passed her talents on to me.”

“I’m sure it tastes great.” Bucky attempted a tight smile. He picked up his fork and curled a few strands of pasta around it, hesitating before bringing it to his mouth. 

Steve tried not to watch him too closely as he ate, but he couldn’t help but to cast sideways glances at him. 

“Did you spend a lot of time with your mom growing up?” Bucky asked, methodically stabbing at a piece of pepper.

“Yeah, I did. She worked full time as a nurse, but she’d always save her evenings for me. We watched all the episodes of the Twilight Zone together.”

“Oh my fucking god. That makes it even worse that you didn’t know what Black Mirror was. It’s basically the modern day Twilight Zone.”

“Okay, I’m sorry that I’m out of the loop. I stopped watching most TV shows after I came to college, it was something I only really did with my mom.”

“I guess that makes me special then.” Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe it does.” Steve took a bite of his meal before turning the conversation back on Bucky. “How’s your family?”

“I swear, they get crazier every time I talk to them. It sounded like my sisters were trying to burn the house down the last time they called me.”

“At least you’ve got some peace and quiet now. No one to bother you when you binge watch Netflix.”

Bucky frowned. 

“I don’t know. It’s weird without all the chaos. I used to do everything with them, go to every concert and game and recital, and now I all get to see the photos that Abbie texts me.”

“Well, at least you get to see them in a few days,” Steve reminded him. 

“Yeah, and then I’ll go back to hating all them within the first few hours.” Bucky rolled his eyes and took a small bite of pepper. “Emma has a ballet recital on Christmas Eve and you bet your ass that my mother will be going crazy trying to get everything in order.”

“Does that mean Emma’s taking after you?” Steve teased. 

“God no. I’m the worst dancer, I had to retake the class freshman year. Didn’t Natasha tell you about what happened during West Side Story?”

Steve shook his head and Bucky groaned.

“It was the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done onstage, and I’ve worn a dress in two other musicals. I forgot the choreography of one of the dances and I went the opposite direction of everyone else, crashed into the metal steps that the stage crew had just moved there, and knocked myself out.”

“Were you okay?” 

“I had a minor concussion afterwards, but the worst part was the fact I managed to screw up the dance and hit my head while onstage. I can’t listen to the West Side Story soundtrack without getting a headache.”

Bucky’s expression was grim but his eyes were shining, and Steve had to laugh. 

“I love that movie, I don’t think I can date you if we can’t watch it together.”

“Well, I guess we’ve reached the end our relationship, then.”

Bucky stood up, picking up his barely touched plate in one hand and Steve’s empty one in the other.

“Wait, don’t you want to finish that?”

Steve could see Bucky tense, his knuckles going white around the rim of the plate.

“I’m pretty full right now, I’ll save it for lunch tomorrow.”

Steve was presented with a crossroads, unsure of which direction to turn. He was caught between trying to force Bucky to eat more and letting it go. He wanted to chose the first option, his “save-the-world” complex telling him that he was responsible for taking care of Bucky Barnes. Except he had already pushed so much tonight, getting Bucky to talk, staying for dinner with him. Was that enough?

“Alright, just don’t let it sit in the fridge for too long,” Steve relented.

Bucky visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping. He took Steve’s plate to the sink and put his leftover pasta in a container, which he carefully placed in the fridge.

“Thanks for coming over tonight.” He hesitated for a moment. “I missed you this week.”

“I missed you too.” Steve wrapped him in a hug, causing Bucky to tense again before he leaned into it, sinking into Steve’s arms. They stayed tangled together for a long moment, Steve finding security in Bucky’s warmth. When they broke apart, Bucky leaned in for a quick kiss. 

“I need a part two to all this kissing,” Bucky complained. “It’s too PG for me.”

“I’m so glad I’m dating someone who knows how to take it slow.”

“You know what I mean, Rogers.”

It was a little thing, Bucky calling him by his last name, but it caught his heart in his throat. He kissed him again.

“And now you’re just proving my point.”

“Can we kiss in silence?”

“Nope, that’s why my longest boyfriend lasted two weeks.”

“I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m seeing you in two days.”

“Good point. I’m still gonna miss you.”


	11. Only Love I Ever Found

It wasn’t too often that Steve got to see his boyfriend bleary eyed and yawning, and he whispered a silent thanks to the universe for letting this happen. Somehow, Bucky managed to look even more attractive when his hair was tousled and his eyes kept drooping shut. When he saw Steve, his hello was interrupted by a huge yawn.

“Good morning to you too,” Steve said, barely managing to suppress his laughter. 

“Well hello, Mr. Sunshine,” Bucky grumbled. “I should dump you for being this awake at this time of the day. It’s humanly impossible for anyone to be happy at 5:30.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve been taking 8:30 classes since freshman year.”

Bucky looked dumbfounded. Steve leaned closer to him and pulled his arm around his boyfriend. When he felt Bucky shiver, he held him tighter, trying to transfer as much body heat as possible. It wasn’t until now that he had truly noticed how small Bucky was, his bones jumped out through the layers of clothing he was wearing. Against Steve’s body, Bucky felt breakable, and suddenly, Steve was afraid of pressing too hard and feeling something snap. 

While they were huddling together, Natasha pulled up and rolled down the window. 

“Look at you lovebirds,” she teased.

She hopped out of the car, grabbing their bags and tossing everything in the trunk as Steve and Bucky got into the car. When everything was loaded up, Natasha slammed on the gas and they flew out of the campus. 

Steve and Bucky had taken back seats together, and it wasn’t long until Bucky fell asleep, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder. For a long time, they drove in silence, Steve staring out the window and imagining his mom’s reaction when he walked through the door. He was coming back a little earlier than he had planned, and he was excited for the chance to surprise her.

As they paused at a red light, Natasha titled the rear-view mirror a little, to see to the back. Steve was startled when he caught her green eyes looking dead at him.

“God, he’s so thin,” she muttered. “This is worse than freshman year.”

Overtaken by the realization that he had no idea as to what kind of response could possibly be the appropriate response to Natasha’s comment, Steve started to blurt out that he had heard their conversation from before. 

“Natasha, I’m really sorry I didn’t let you know earlier, but I-”

She cut him off. “I know you heard our conversation from the other night.” She waved her free hand like this information was irrelevant.

“Then why did have it?”

Natasha shrugged, but the gesture didn’t fit her character. Everything about her was calculated and the shrug felt oddly casual. “I didn’t notice that you were awake until we were about halfway through, and by then, I figured it would be awkward for everyone involved if I cut it short. Besides, I thought you should know. Because you really should.”

Steve was at a loss for words. “How long?” he managed to get out.

“As long as I’ve known him. Probably longer. It’s been on and off and on again for the last 7 years, but I’ve only seen it get really bad maybe 3 or 4 times. He’s headed down there again.”

She kept glancing back at them, her eyes flickering to Bucky. 

“He acts like it’s nothing,” she said, irritation and anger rising up beneath her words. “He acts like it’s fucking nothing, like he can handle this, like he can shut everyone out and starve himself away.”

Her words broadlined on near hysteria, but her face was composed. Her white knuckles, gripping onto the steering wheel, were the only thing that betrayed her. 

They pulled turned a corner and Steve could see that they were nearing the train terminal. He wanted to say something and reassure Natasha, but he didn’t know Bucky like she did. He had started to scratch the surface of Bucky’s problems, whereas Natasha had seen them from the beginning. 

She pulled the car into a parking position in the lot, but neither of them made any move to get out. The clock read 6:15, and Bucky was still soundly asleep on Steve’s shoulder. 

“I told him I was going to tell his parents, junior year,” she said, twisting around in her seat to look Steve in the eye. “He fainted backstage during the fall production and I honestly thought he was going to die.” Her mouth creased into a thin line, like she was remembering what it had been like. “He looked like death, and when I found him, I thought that his heart had stopped. He wouldn’t let me tell anyone, and then he went on the stage and performed his scene like nothing had happened. When he came off, I don’t think I’ve ever screamed at anyone louder. I told him that I was sick and tired of him pretending that starving only hurt himself. I told him that I wasn’t going to watch him kill himself. I told him that I was going to tell his parents and there was nothing he could do about it.”

She stopped, her voice shaky. Steve almost reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she managed to calm herself. 

“And then he told me that I couldn’t tell his parents, because his parents already knew. They already fucking knew, and they didn’t think that it was a problem since apparently, boys don’t get eating disorders.”

Steve drew in a sharp breath. God. Bucky. 

“Steve, they haven’t changed at all. The first year we got to college, Bucky started falling back into his patterns again and he told me that he was thinking of seeing a school counselor. I was so happy. I actually thought he was going to be done with this thing. But before he went he called his mom and told her about what he was doing and what he was going through, and after that conversation, he never went near the counselor’s office. I don’t know what she fucking said to him, but the things I’ve heard about from the past, oh my god. She really just doesn’t believe that this could kill him.” 

“Should I have him stay with me so that he doesn’t have to see his parents?” 

Natasha shook her head. “You couldn’t keep him away from there. His siblings are his entire world and he still loves his parents, even after everything.”

“I want him to be safe,” Steve said helplessly. “I don’t want to go home for Christmas dinner with my mother if I think that’s Bucky going to have to spend all his days with the people that drive him away from getting better.”

Despite the tense atmosphere that had enveloped the car, Natasha flashed Steve a tight smile. “He’s got you looking after him, this entire break. This is the best thing that could have happened to him.”

Next to Steve, Bucky began to stir. Natasha and Steve stopped their conversation as he woke up and stretched out, arching his back like a cat.

“What’d I miss? Were you talking about me?” 

“You wish.” Natasha grinned.

The three of them piled out of the car and grabbed their things from Natasha’s trunk. She gave Bucky a quick kiss on the cheek and a whispered reminder in this ear before moving on to Steve. She wrapped Steve in a hug, and as they drew away from each other, she grasped his shoulders.

“I know you’ll take care of him. I know you’ll look out for him. But please let him know how much you love him. He forgets.”

Steve nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. Natasha waved goodbye a final time before getting back into her car and speeding away, leaving Steve and Bucky alone in the parking lot.

Steve turned to his boyfriend and held out his hand. “Ready?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering why I just uploaded about 7 chapters at once, I've had those written for awhile, but I never posted them.
> 
> Here's the thing. I'm abandoning this fic. Recently, I came out of one of the darkest periods of my life, and it's taught me a lot of things. I started writing this fic when I was still in the thick of it, and as I'm working on getting better, I'm starting to realize that this fic is not what I should be writing right now. I'm not stopping it because I'm bored of it, or because I'm out of ideas. I'm not writing anymore because I don't think it's healthy for me. I can't write about these issues without inevitably thinking about myself. It's a way for me to trigger myself, and it causes me to relapse. 
> 
> Maybe one day, when I'm more stable and I can consider these issues from a fictional perspective, rather than a real life one, I'll come back to this fic. I love these characters and I think I could take this story somewhere, but not right now. I want to write this. I really do. But I'm also trying to heal, and that means letting go of things.
> 
> To anyone, like me, who reads these kind of things in a misguided attempt to feel less alone, this is not the way to go. To feel less alone, you need to heal. Reading this, in the long run, makes you feel even more isolated. 
> 
> Again, I wish I could keep writing this. I wish I was in a place where that was okay for me. Unfortunately, though, I'm not, and I'm doing the hard thing right now. Until then, thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a practice writing fic than anything, but there's a lot more coming. I appreciate all comments and kudos!


End file.
